So, last night I’m sitting at a banquette in Nobu minding my own business, sending a plate of black cod miso back to the kitchen because it was so fishy, and checking out the scene, when the hostess, whose last meal was obviously years ago, sashays her size zero heinie past our table and seats three obviously very important men at the table 6 inches away from mine. The very important men are in deep discussion. The very important men are talking about me. Shock! My date–yes, it’s true–and I stop talking. They are discussing the story I wrote on Phil Romano and his ridiculous lawsuit against DMN restaurant critic Dotty Griffith for her review on Il Mulino. Long story short, one very important–and good-looking, I might add–guy says, “Wouldn’t it be great to date a food critic? I mean, imagine coming to a place like this and getting to eat for free.” I couldn’t do it at the time, being I was on a real live date and didn’t have any business cards with me, but I can do it now. Hey, guys, I can make that happen. 214-939-3636. No imposters.